Tagged!

All week long, there’s been kind of a chain letter going around the world of blog. The game is that you have to post “5 Things You Might Not Know About Me,” and then tag other bloggers. If you keep the chain going, you’ll get rich and have success. And if you don’t, then you end up penniless, in prison, and your dog runs away with your ex-wife. Or something like that. (Actually, I made that last part up. Bloggers do very little making of threats, as we know this is such a fragile and blessed little craft.)

So, I was taggedthreetimes this week. And I missed it, so I’ve fallen behind. I’m not going to post fifteen things just because I got tagged thrice. I don’t know if I could think of fifteen things. (Though it was fun to write the word “thrice.”)

1 – I was a cheerleader.

In honor of the one-year anniversary of John Spencer’s death, I’m going to do what Leo McGarry did in West Wing when the Republicans were going to publicize his past drug problem. He held a press conference and admitted it publicly first.

So, before one more person can bring me yet one more high school yearbook and say, “Oh my God! I just found out you were a cheerleader from this person who went to your high school!!!” I am admitting to my past indiscretions right now. So, there it is.

2 – I speak forest fluently.

After I moved to Asheville, I started hiking. Then I got crazy about the woods here and learned all the native flora and fauna. I know lots of it by name. But when you learn to speak forest, it’s not about naming things. It’s when you’ve gone way beyond that, and you just know the woods, and you just know that non-verbal language. I am most at home in spots that have never been logged and are chock full of rhododendron. My strange little belief is that if everyone learned to speak forest, there’d be no addictions.
3 – My very first concert was Michael Jackson.

My big sister drove me and my best friend, Leslie to the Capital Centre. (Back before every arts pavilion, arena, and stadium was called “Pepsi” “Verizon” and “Sprint.”) I memorized all of Michael’s dance moves. (Occasionally I still do one every now and then much to the chagrin of my husband.) I wrote about six pages in my journal the next day with full descriptions of all the costumes, and all about how Michael even pointed down at me and then looked at me – “RIGHT IN THE EYES!” (Of course, all the other girls who were standing around me wrote the same thing in their journals the next day.) It really was a great show. Even in my memory. I got sick as a dog from all pre-teen-drama-queen screaming in which I partook.

I’m a sucker for good design. I love great interior design and great architecture. And I love clean, contemporary, wildly expensive furniture. After I performed in Seattle, I visited some friends of mine in Victoria, BC. My room (Room? I think they actually called it “The Zen Suite” or something like that) had the Ligne Roset Togo sectional in it, and I must say, it has been on my Vision Board ever since.

When I first graduated from college, I was in love with a guy who – after we had been together for several months – went to South Africa to do volunteer work for a year. At some point amidst our perpetual letter writing and expensive phone calls, he invited me to come spend a month with him during his winter break. We would rent a van with a bunch of the other volunteers and all tour the country. So, I flew to Johannesburg (I first went to Holland, Belgium, Greece, Kenya – did a big huge trip on my own). I was crazy excited to see him.

And you guessed it. He broke up with me when I got there. (I’m actually giggling as I write this just remembering how insane it was.) It was truly the Oprah life-altering moment for me. I ended up staying for the few weeks I had planned, and one of the other volunteers (Steve Hollman, you PRINCE of a man) broke off from the group, and we hitch-hiked all over the place together. I remember being determined to have a great time, which I did but all the while my heart ached unceasingly.

Here’s the thing though: I spent almost no money in our hitch-hiking adventures. Steve and I always ended up with free-lodging and free meals. People were really nice to us. So, the minute I returned to the U.S., I took my left over money, and I bought a cheap Martin Guitar. And I realized that I had absolutely zero to lose by leaping towards my little dream of writing songs and making music. Which is what I did. So, really, I am wildly grateful that I was unceremoniously dumped with such drama and turmoil. Back then, that’s the only way the Gods could get through to me.

I had to laugh at your pleasure at using the word “thrice”. Just the other day I used it in a sentence, and then had to stop and point out that I used “thrice” and that I love that word. Also, the furniture is great. I’m glad the breakup worked out so well after all, but what a jerk! Trips to Africa are not exactly cheap. Still, it sounds like a great example of the axiom that sometimes it’s better when our wishes and hopes don’t come true.

I had no idea that was TRUE in Or Just Heading Home. Haha. As much as it sucks to be broken up with, I definitely think it probably helps in the long run. I find myself constantly counseling my students in the area of breakups. “You know… each guy/girl that breaks up with you just brings you one step closer to the guy/girl that’s right for you,” has become my mantra.

I like this idea… will have to put it on my own blog.

I forgive you for being a cheerleader… I gave in and did it one year. Can you say “breeding ground for body image issues”? I can.

There’s a lovely Mary Oliver poem about the satisfaction of being able to name things. A little too long to copy here, and I couldn’t find one online – it’s called “Something” from the collection Why I Wake Early. Here’s an excerpt, which doesn’t capture the rapturousness of the entire poem… but might inspire you to find it…

She writes of finding a “yellow-white lace-mass that the sea has brought to the shore”

… I do not know what to call this sharpest desire

to discover a name,
but there it is, suddenly, clearly
illustrated on the page, offering my heart
another singular

moment of happiness: to know that it is
the egg case of an ocean shell,
the whelk….

Christine, This weekend we had the memorial for our friend Joyce Reed. In my remarks I gave you credit and used several of your thoughts about Gratitude. Joyce certainly exemplified “How you translate any life situation is your own choice. ” Your blog was wonderfully and very helpful to us. I’m not sure how you got to be so wise but your blogs are so real, so great, so humerous, so helpful. Thanks.
Tommie

Thanks for the “tag” Christine, and yes I had to look up “inimitable” (and all I can say is – thanks again!). Are you sure you wouldn’t want to post those cheerleading yearbook photos just to really put it all behind you? 🙂 My list is now up, and I revealed a past indiscretion of my own (you’ll see!). All the best.

Christine, thanks for tagging me…I think! 🙂 And by a former cheerleader (oh the horror, the horror) no less (if my big sister saw me write this she’d strangle me with her former cheerleader hands). I think I’ll have some fun with it but doubt I can be as charming and entertaining in the process as you’ve been here!